


The Queerqueeg

by orphan_account



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: F/F, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-02 00:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15784917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: An alternate Grim Grotto where Olaf submarine does not contact the Queequeg and Violet spends her fifteenth birthday alone. Who will comfort her in these trying times?





	The Queerqueeg

If you have ever swam deeper than you are tall, you have realized just how vast and treacherous water can be. Whether you are in the comfort of your local public swimming pool being watched intently by lifeguards or wading in a murky swamp that once was the favorite vacation destination for a world renowned herpetologist, you know that exploring the depths will deliver you to an entirely isolated and inhuman domain.

Both figuratively and literally, this is exactly how Violet Baudelaire felt as she quietly celebrated her fifteenth birthday whilst aboard the Queequeg. Literally, because the depth gauge in the lounge indicated that she and the rest of the crew were submerged under almost two hundred meters of water, and figuratively because she felt that she had thus far failed her only duties in life. The eldest Baudelaire began to sob quietly into her sleeves as the solitary candle on her uneaten coconut cake burned out.

“Violet,” Fiona said as she strode into the compartment. “Why are you crying?”

She wiped her tears on her sleeves. “It’s nothing you should concern yourself with,” she said unconvincingly.

“I have a right to be concerned for a fellow volunteer,” Fiona rebutted. “And besides, wouldn’t you if our roles were reversed?”

“Of course,” Violet replied. “I’m just not sure if I’m ready to talk yet.”

“That’s okay,” Fiona said. “But that cake isn’t going to eat itself, unlike insects affected by Autocannibalis Mycelium. How about we split it? You might even feel better afterwards.”

Violet had not eaten for several hours due to the constant maintenance requests of Captain Widdershins, but had no desire to fill her empty stomach. However, she was aware that Sunny and Phil personally made the dessert for the occasion, and did not wish to insult them by refusing the meal outright.

“That sounds good,” she said reluctantly. She neatly bisected her meal with a bread knife Phil had loaned from the kitchen. 

The two girls ate in silence, or the relative silence of leaky hydraulics lines and humming diesel engines, for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Fiona spoke up after she finished her slice. 

“Do you know what that is?” she asked, pointing towards a foggy brass-ringed porthole.

“The ocean?” Violet replied, confused by the inquiry.

Fiona shook her head. “We’re entering the mesopelagic zone, one of the aphotic zones.”

“Aphotic? That means ‘without the presence of light’, right? I remember Klaus mentioning that when he got a Latin dictionary for his ninth birthday.”

“That’s correct,” the mycologist replied. “Soon, there won’t be enough light reaching the water to support phytoplankton. The water pressure will exceed twenty atmospheres. Isn’t that exhilarating?”

“You don’t find that scary or overwhelming?” Violet asked.

“I like to think of it as a metaphor for the human condition,” Fiona explained. “Our journeys in life may take us through beautiful coral reefs or hurricanes of the Lake Lachrymose or even the doldrums of the open sea, but those are only superficialities. What cannot be seen, what remains unexplored, is who we truly are.”

Violet nodded. She understood superficial appearances intimately, from Count Olaf’s attempt to marry her thinly veiled as a play to Esme Squalor’s obsession over what others considered ‘in’ to her and her siblings’ disguises at Caligari Carnival to evade capture. Through it all, however, she never truly stopped to contemplate her identity and how she had changed.

“Before any of these unfortunate events started, when Sunny had just been born, my parents made me promise I would protect and care for my younger siblings no matter what. But it seems that whatever I do, we end up in Olaf’s clutches.” She shuddered a bit as she uttered the wretched villain’s name and began tearing up again.

“Villains can never win in the end,” Fiona replied soothingly. She grasped Violet’s hand in hers. “Their greed and ruthlessness is precisely what destroys them.”

“How can you be so sure?” Violet cried. “This isn’t some fairy tale like The Littlest Elf, where we can return to a happy family and live in harmony with singing animals. My parents are dead, and a determined arsonist is out for our blood!”

The eldest Baudelaire sobbed loudly as rivulets of tears flowed down her cheeks. In any other situation, she would have been exceedingly embarrassed by such an open display of emotion, but she was far too distraught to care. Fiona gently caressed her shoulders and laid her head down on her lap.

“Can I tell you something, Violet?” Fiona asked as she wiped Violet’s tears with a handkerchief.

“Yes, of course,” Violet sniffled.

“You are the most intelligent and wonderful girl I have ever met,” she said. “Your despair pains me deeply as well.”

“What?” Violet choked. She was at a loss for words, but it was no longer due to sadness. Rather, she was utterly blindsided by Fiona’s compliment.

“Did I misspeak?” Fiona asked apologetically. “Perhaps I should have been plainer. I love you, Violet Baudelaire.”

Violet tried to speak but her confounded brain refused to produce any words adequate to her amazement. When she finally opened her mouth, she found that the triangular spectacles of the renowned mycologist had moved exceedingly close. Their lips met in a warm, loving embrace. 

“I… um, well,” Violet stammered. She was blushing harder than when she had been commended as the Best Juvenile Inventor at the City Fair when she was ten. 

“Oh my,” Fiona said. “I moved too quickly, didn’t I? I’m sorry.”

“No, not at all,” Violet responded smilingly. “That was perfect.”

Just as the Baudelaire was about to lean in to hug her newfound sweetheart, a rapid staccato voice crackled over the intercom.

“This is the Captain speaking, aye! Violet! We need to repair the aft research station if we’re going to have a chance of defeating Count Olaf! Get moving! No, get a move on! For science! For glory! For justice! Aye!!!”

“I guess we’ll just have to continue this later,” Violet sighed as she wiped crumbs from her waterproof suit.

“Who says we can’t work together?” said Fiona with a smirk. “Besides, there’s a myriad of mycological samples there I could teach you about.”

Hand in hand, the girls walked along the corridor, their minds at ease from Violet’s Fifteenth Date.


End file.
